


Cascade Effect

by ShadowedSword13



Category: Percy - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean Friendship, Annabeth Chase Engineering Major, Because how else does Percy meet his dream goddess?, Better things to do than a party, Even if one wants to throttle the other, Except it's Meet-Drunk-and-Run, F/M, Have you read the books?, Homework, Jaegermeister and bad decisions, Jason Grace & Percy Jackson Bromance, Jason Grace is a Dork, Kinda, Leather Jackets, Luke Castellan being a dick, Meet-Cute, POV Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson Marine Biology Major, Percy Jackson is a Dork, Percy Tattoos, Percy lives for bad puns, Piper McLean is a Good Friend, Sarcastic Percy Jackson, Sassy Percy Jackson, Scholar Annabeth, She's not even sure what the punch is made of, Soft Jason Grace, Soft Percy Jackson, Tattoos, You just don't even know yet, beach party, how is that not a tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28598595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowedSword13/pseuds/ShadowedSword13
Summary: Annabeth Chase just wants to study, finish out her homework, and maybe get started on her SolidWorks project tonight.Piper McLean doesn't agree, and her unfortunate choice to bring Reyna as muscle (because most nights it was required to physically peel her away from her laptop) assured her that instead of combing back through calculations and burying herself in the numerical world of Modulus's of elasticity and resulting moments of inertia in her Static's homework, she was riding in Piper's car.To a party._______A cascade effect is an inevitable and sometimes unforeseen chain of events due to an act affecting a system
Relationships: Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean, Annabeth Chase & Piper McLean & Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano, Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Jason Grace/Piper McLean
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Liar, Liar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17508656) by [withered](https://archiveofourown.org/users/withered/pseuds/withered). 



**Chapter 1**

There are a handful of reasons that Annabeth does **not** want to go to a beach party.

Admittedly, most of them correlate to a stack of papers on her desk, a SolidWorks project she still hasn’t started on that she only has a week left to do, and just generally not wanting to go out.

These wonderful logical arguments fall on the deaf ears of Piper McLean- self proclaimed and enforced best friend- and Reyna, said friend’s roommate.

“For an hour.” Piper defends as she pulls into the driveway, squeezing her little sedan between a truck that’s got a lift kick so high the driver _has to be compensating_ , and what Annabeth swears is a soccer mom minivan.

“For until I steal the keys out of your purse.” She growls. “And I will leave your ass.”

Piper throws the car in park with a jerk, ripping the keys out of the ignition before turning and meeting Annabeth’s glare with a daring look. The keys dangle a foot away, held lightly in her hands.

Annabeth watches them slip out of Piper’s hands, down the front of her top and rest there.

“Piper McLean you better have brought a second shirt.” With murder in her eyes Annabeth snaps her seatbelt off, going for the keys.

Reyna pops between them, shoving Piper back into the driver’s seat and Annabeth nearly out the door. “Alright. Enough. Annabeth,” she fixes her with a menacing look. “You’re staying her for an hour, getting drunk, and doing something other than TA work, or whatever mathematic witchcraft you do most of the day.” She turns on Piper, “And you are giving ME the keys, because I’m apparently the only responsible one here.”

It’s bullshit.

But it’s fair bullshit.

Annabeth huffs, crossing her arms over her chest as Piper turns the keys over and Reyna leaves. Piper sticks her tongue out like the brat she sometimes is before jumping out of the car.

And for just a moment, Annabeth contemplates hotwiring the car and going back to the dorms.

But she’s no mechanic, and while she knows a method involving a screwdriver and a hammer, she doubts Piper would be thrilled or willing to forgive her if she did.

She chews on the thought for a moment, but reminds herself it’s only an hours.

Only an hour of drunken college idiots, and then she can get back to being the the TA terror of Math 101, 201 and 203; and maybe even start on her SolidWorks project.

It’s doubtful.

She catches up to Reyna, and they walk in together.

Ten minutes later, and it’s like she arrived alone.

Reyna has disappeared, possibly to the kitchen or possibly out to the porch since they were playing a game that might have started off as volleyball but now was definitely oversized-beer-pong. Annabeth’s not too keen to look for her in either place.

Piper, she can still see, but she’s four shots in and fallen into her usual giggles and barks of sarcasm. She’s more than sure that in an hour she’ll actually be sober, but until then, she’s all fun, games and bad choices.

“Look what the cat dragged out of the TA lounge.”

And look how much your ego has grown since seventh grade? She wants to shoot back, knowing the voice by memory, when it used to tell her she was beautiful and smart and dreamy, instead of a stuck-up prude too focused on grades and scholarships.

“Castellan.” She doesn’t turn around, doesn’t want to.

But that doesn’t really matter to Luke Castellan, who’s likely a few drinks too many in at this point and hadn’t not gotten his way with the ladies since he found out what flirting could get you.

Well. Except once.

She smiled, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Didn’t know you knew what partying was.” He leers, red solo cup in hand looking more empty than full, and considering his wet tanktop and low riding shorts, she’s not really sure if it made it to his mouth or not.

He’s still handsome. Always had been with that blonde hair blue eyed stereotype going. All lean muscle and sharp jawbones.

“I thought I might take a break and remind myself what degenerates do on the weekends.” She smirks as he blinks, stunned by her reply. “But I suppose it’s not that memorable since you’ve drunk enough to not remember it.”

It’s likely not a good or wise pastime to watch the red rise on his face, but it’s a fast one. He looks like he’s going to pop a blood vessel, and the red solo cup in his hand crunches as he steps towards her, throwing it on the ground.

“You listen here you little-“

“Sorry.” She interrupts again. “I’m meeting someone.” And she leaves.

She leaves him, and whatever crude or stupid remark he would have made is drowned out in the pounding of the bass, the jumble of uncoordinated voices singing, and the pulse of alcohol in the air around her. She sinks into it and lets the movement of the not-quite-blackout-drunk-but-getting-there-people around her take her first to the kitchen to get something, and then out to the porch.

At first, she’s just enjoying the music and trying to figure out how many brands of alcohol when into the purple- or possibly blue- punch she’s had two cups of. She takes another sip.

Jägermeister to start.

Straight up Kool-aid for taste.

Maybe a hint of some sort of whiskey? Jack? Evans?

She blinks and furrows her brow, leaning against the railing as she considers.

Reyna has joined the volleyball turned beer-pong. Inflatable tubes served as cups, and a nearby table had an assortment of solo cups, all filled to the brim with the strange concoction she herself was drinking.

“Reyna’s getting wasted tonight.” She muses, humming with a strange sort of delight at hearing her own voice through the noise.

By the looks, and if Annabeth can still could after two of these things, she’s had three cups, but is still winning.

“You’re drinking?”

Annabeth glances over, recognizing Piper by the shocked look on her face.

“Luke.” She supplies simply, taking a sip before setting the drink down. “Still the King of Douches.”

“Least I’m not a liar.”

She glances up, then jerks back as he pushes through the crowd, throwing an arm between her and Piper. His hand hits the railing, knocking her drink over the railing to the sand below.

Someone yells up a complaint.

“Hey!” Piper barks, shoving at his arm.

“Meeting someone doesn’t count when it’s the same little priss that drove you here.”

“Maybe she would still be meeting someone if your sorry ass wasn’t hanging around here. Anyone with sense avoids you like the plague.” Piper throws his arm off the railing, and while Luke stumbles, he recovers smoothly, taking a step back and jutting his chin out.

Annabeth presses her back up to the railing, but she’s trapt herself in the corner of the porch, and Luke doesn’t look willing to move, and while Piper is shoving at him, he’s grounded and stable.

So it’s with a fair amount of awe that she watches a sun kissed hand grab Luke’s shoulder and ease him out of the way.

She registers dark green eyes and a ghost of a smile as a cup is pressed into her hands, and the scent of salt and soda as a voice whispers, “It’s Coke,” into her ear.

“Jackson.”

Wow does that name sound familiar.

Not familiar in the family-pet-you-kinda-forgot-kind of way, but the name-you-definitely-heard-so-many-times-it-stopped-being-a-name-and-is-now-a-phrase kind of way.

“Luke.” Says the same voice that handed her Coke. And it’s deep and slow and careful and -shit she was drunk if she was analyzing the acoustics of someone’s voice.

Did she really only have two cups? She grimaces, and tries to focus on the conversation, but only manages to notice the dark brown leather jacket, an accent stripe of red and yellow on the biceps of it. The man wearing it has the words _‘Courage is knowing-“_ trailing down the back of his neck, and she wonders if he knows it’s the start of a great quote about fear.

Probably not.

Most frat boys aren’t that articulate.

She sips on the soda and hopes that it helps her sobriety for what’s no doubt coming her way.

Luke stalks away, and whatever her leather clad party boy says is lost in the realization that, _wow his eyes are like the sea. Like a deep blue-green_. And it makes her think of algae and fish and that sooner or later her spilled drink is going to soak into the sand and saturate the sea with the disgustingly enjoyable concoction of debauchery that she had two whole cups of.

Idly she wonders if fish would get drunk off of her spilled cup, or just die.

“It’s kind of a slippery slope that usually ends in marine death, but I think in this case-it’ll be fine.”

She blinks, pulling her eyes from the dark bubbly liquid to the person who delivered it- and then sideways to Piper, who seemed just as surprised.

“I like fish.” Her mysterious tattooed, leather clad frat boy explains.

“And you said that out loud.” Piper adds helpfully, flashing a smile before nodding at the boy.

He smiles and nods back, some unspoken communication occurring between her and the boy before she wriggles her fingers and dances off through the crowd.

Shit. Her best friend just abandoned her with some rando in a leather jacket.

“You said that out loud again.” Said rando supplies with a smile.

She groans, pushing herself up to her full height before taking another sip of the soda. It helps. At least she thinks it does, before turning her full attention to him.

“Thank you for the help.” She says, pursing her lips and calling up all of her mental abilities.

He smiles and laughs like it’s nothing to fend off someone how can be as aggressively annoying as Luke. “No one deserves to get harassed when they’re just trying to enjoy the party.”

And that’s an amusing comment, and it brings a smile to her lips. “And if I didn’t want to be at this party?”

He smiles like that line amuses him, but doesn’t bite at it, and instead changes topic. “You going to be alright?”

“Peachy.” She just needed to stop drinking, rescue Piper’s keys from Reyna’s cleavage, and escape. “Thanks for…” She trails off and gestures into the crowd.

He smiles again. “My pleasure.” Like he’s some Chick-fil-A employee instead of a man wearing a leather jacket at the beach with eyes like the ocean and skin like polished bronze.

And she slides off the railing, leaving the drink he’d gotten her at the railing as she hurries down the stairs, away from him because she’s hyper-aware of how her eyes are trailing down the edges of his jacket, wondering why lies underneath, sliding around the collar because she wants to know what the rest of that quote says.

And that’s not something she can do when she’s got homework and Solidworks and a _fucking engineering degree_ to do.

And she just doesn’t have time to oogle boys, regardless of if they’re nice and seemingly-sweet and definitely bailed her out of the most awkward encounter with her ex she’s ever had.

Annabeth Chase did not have time for that shit right now.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth just wants to do homework.  
> The universe has other plans.  
> And maybe this is all just the side effect of introducing herself to the party Thursday, but it all feels so totally out of her hands right now.

Chapter 2

Two days is an awful long recovery period (by Piper’s standards) but it had been what Annabeth insisted on after the debacle Thursday night (which bled over into Friday morning after a 3am milkshake run). And she wasn’t taking compromises on it.

And she took great pleasure in being able to lounge in her and Piper’s shared apartment while her friend slaved over the dirty dishes- her agreed upon punishment for dragging Annabeth out without notice- all of Friday and Saturday morning.

Until she suddenly brightened, and threw her off the couch, declaring she had a date, the she needed the apartment (a term agreed upon in their roommate contract) and that she needed to leave.

It was all of these conditions resulted in her occupation of a corner booth in the campus café. Corner booths were the best for multiple reasons, but this one in particular since she lorded over the closest outlet in the room to a table, and it gave her plenty of space to work on her homework.

And yet, even with all of these things in her favor, she still felt frozen, pen idling on the top of her page past the knowns of her statics equations. Part of her knew that she should start jotting down the needed equations under it, filling in the known variables and making a sketch of the problem.

Part of her was lost in the thought of Thursday night, pen itching to sketch out the cursive script that trailed down tan skin.

Not because she was the type of girl to be enamoured by tattoos and ink or any sort of man.

There was just something interesting about the tattoo as a whole. Perhaps because the individual had chosen a quote instead of a design. Which pointed her to it having a deeper-likely more personal- meaning.

It was a puzzle that she could tinker with and toy in her brain, satisfying itself on the thoughts of what the rest of the quote could say, but idling and stalling out without the proper amount of information.

The other parts of her reasoned that it was a monumental waste of time and that she needed to swap from a pen to a pencil and get cracking on her calculations.

Neither part gets satisfied though because blonde hair and blue eyes drops into the seat across from her and it’s accented by the sneer on his lips.

“Look awful lonely by yourself here Chase.” And despite the sarcasm and bite dripping from the line, when she looks up Luke only has a look of amusement on his lips.

She purses her lips, considering him for a moment before looking back down at her page, setting the black pen down and picking up a mechanical pencil.

“You make the assumption that I require another person’s attention to be meaningful.” She carefully marks up the problem on her engineering pad.

It’s a simple equation with truces. Well. She flips the pencil, erasing a line and straightening it out. Simple but time consuming.

She swaps back to her pen to mark the supplied external forces.

“I just thought it was strange, seeing you here after Jackson so helpfully came to your rescue at the party.” He furthers, and she knows him well enough (after birthday parties and childhood spats and so many fights) to know he’s fishing for a rise in her.

“I figured she could take care of herself. She’s that kind of girl after all.” And the line is delivered smooth and clean, like it doesn’t require any forethought or consideration, but the voice that says it is deep and rich and slow like the ocean.

She glances up, forcing the schooled calm expression on her face as she turns to _him._

He’s still in that leather jacket, but in the noon light instead of the bleak night it’s a lighter brown and it accents the tan he has. And it blends fairly well with the molted blue and black Henley he has on under it, the top button popped to give her just the briefest of looks at his collarbone.

“Sorry I’m late, the line’s pretty long love.” He says, setting a mug of coffee on her table before looking to Luke.

Her childhood friend turned terror looks as flabbergasted as she feels, but she’s had practice pulling the emotion from her expression, and it shows in how she returns his look with a smooth smile.

“Goodbye Luke.” She takes the time to wriggle her fingers at him, and her leaves with a huff and more noise and drama than needed.

Her frat boy savior slides into the booth across from her, legs shuffling under the table before he leans back into the soft cushions, bringing his steaming cup of coffee to his lips.

She cocks an eyebrow at him, pursing her lips as he occupies _her_ table, but decides he did at least chase off Luke. Which was not very high on her current list of priorities, but in the least he was an annoyance she didn’t want to deal with today.

“So.” He broaches as she picks up her pencil.

“I could have handled him myself.” She assures, writing down the sum of forces.

“Never said you couldn’t. Just thought I’d stop it before he walked out with a broken nose and a bruised pride.”

She can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not, and decides to let it slide as she breaks the trusses problem down into manageable segments. She hates problems like these. Not because they’re hard, but because they’re time consuming and wasteful.

“I’m sure Luke will thank you for saving his fragile male pride.”

“I did it more because I didn’t think you wanted blood on your shirt.” He supplies, and she glances up at him to find those sea-green eyes flashing with amusement at her.

“What’s this about?” And she sets her pencil down.

And he blinks a bit owlishly, like it surprises him to be put on the spot. He shrugs, then blinks and shrugs again, all swagger and smoothness gone as he looks back at her.

She cocks an eyebrow at him.

And he shrugs again like the articulate mess he is. “I guess I just thought I’d give you a hand.” He confesses. “Not that you look like you need it!” He hurries to say. “But I- you know.” And his smile is sheepish as he finishes. “My mom taught me to always help a girl out when you could.”

There’s something about the way he delivers that line “mom taught me-“ that bit, that makes her wonder, but she has enough puzzles to figure out for today, and instead accept the truce as it is presented.

“Well thank you.” She flashes him a small smile. “Annabeth.”

“Percy.” He replies, and this would be a moment that one would extend a handshake, but instead his fingers linger on his coffee cup, coiled around it as his thumbs mindlessly trace the top.

“You helped out at the party too if I recall.” She adds.

He smiles again, and it’s crooked but it fits his look. He’s not a golden boy afterall, not with that leather jacket he isn’t. “No one needs to be harassed when they’re just trying to have fun.”

He repeats the same line, or close enough that she can recall it at least, so easily.

“Well. Thank you for the save.” And she picks up her pencil to start back on her equations.

He stays in the booth across from her, mindlessly drinking his coffee. And it was fine.

He finishes his cup. She finishes her first problem. And he stays, lingers in the booth, fingers mindlessly tracing the rim. She can see him changing fingers in her peripheral, but it’s hard to focus on him or her homework when both are vying for her attention.

“Is there a reason you’re still here?” She grinds out.

“Luke alarm.” He says it completely casually, and it makes her look up. So he elaborates, still staring off at the doors. “I figured it wouldn’t be in your best interests if as soon as he left, I did. And if you’re supposed to be meeting me then it would probably be for a date, and then I should probably stick around.”

She blinks, then purses her lips.

“I don’t need a date.” What she needs is to finish her Statics, have Piper finish her date, and maybe, just maybe, ask him what the rest of that tattoo says.

He blinks, then smiles at her. “Well what if I do?”

She closes her eyes, rolling her bottom lip across her teeth because – _damn she really walked into that one didn’t she?­_ She sighs, then sets her pencil down. “And I look like the type of person you want to date because?”

“Well, I’m studying to be a marine biologist, and I just really think it’s a cool subject, and it’s puts me close to what I love.” He pauses, and she feels like it’s a set up, and it looks like it when his smile stretches a little wider. “But I really think you’re the only fish in the sea for me.”

_Oh fuck he’s a dork._

It’s so bad it hurt.

She bites the tip of her tongue between her teeth, closer her eyes as she lets that line stew in her mind. And it’s with a sudden burn of embarrassment, though she’s not sure if it’s for her or him, that she snaps her book and notebook closed, tossing them into her bookbag.

“My mother told me to follow my dreams, and I just keep seeing you in them?” He suggests. She stops long enough to give him a deadpan look, and then throws her pencil into her bag.

“I know you’ve got to be good at math, so could we please just see if me and you will add up to happiness?”

_That one’s actually kind of clever._ She admits, grabbing her back and standing.

“Wait!” He says just as she gets up, “please, I just- can you be my fake girlfriend?”

She pauses, stopping in her tracks to turn back and consider him. He’s wide-eyed and frantic, biting his lower lip in a hopeful expression like he can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. In fact.

She can’t believe the words that just came out of his mouth. She pauses, looks around the rest of the coffee shop, but it’s blissfully empty except for the barista, who looks more invested in the wallpaper than recognizing their conversation.

Maybe it’s the look he’s wearing.

The hopeful expectant look that’s borderline pleading.

Maybe it’s the way he nibbles at his lower lip like he’s so nervous he’s about to freak out.

Or maybe it’s just because he’s cute. A little dark and shady in that leather jacket and those tattoos, tracing the edges of his exposed wrists, the hint of dark ink on his neck.

Maybe it’s all of them.

Or maybe it’s just the way he slide up to her in her frantic time of need, not once, but twice, and bailed her out of what should have been a day-ruiner at the hands of her ex.

She sighs, looking out the door for a moment. Then back at him.

And with a resigned sigh, because she can’t believe she’s doing this, she drops back into the seat, preparing herself for she-doesn’t-even-know-what.

“Explain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is coming out alright.  
> I had trouble with this chapter simply because Annabeth (currently) has a feel that she's just... busy. She has homework and scholarships and work and things to do- and a boyfriend is not one of them. But it's also kinda convenient that Percy just chases away Luke whenever she needs. She's not gonna lie. That's super nice. 
> 
> And then I had to add my favorite trope here.   
> Expect I don't even know that it's like "fake dating" trope because Percy's straight up serious about this.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has no idea why she said yes to this.  
> (Well- she has some idea. But it has nothing to do with his charmingly awkward personality- or that fact he looks rather daringly handsome in that leather jacket) 
> 
> This is a terrible idea.

Chapter 3

He’s bought her another coffee, and himself a cookie and whatever sugary blasphemy he had originally, and despite the caffeine, she still can’t wrap her head around it.

She drums her fingers on the table, frowning gently as she considers his expression.

“So…” She starts, stops, reconsiders her words and instead starts with, “and you can’t just tell her you’re not interested why?”

“Cause I like her as a friend but it’s super awkward when you friend-zone someone, especially as a guy.” He supplies with an awkward smile.

“And dating me is an option because?”

“You seem like you need a date.” He replies, and she’d genuinely be offended if not for the past two encounters with Luke.

He backpedals pretty fast though.

“Not that- I mean- you don’t- I mean-“ He snaps his mouth closed, looks like he’s chewing on his tongue, before he opens his mouth and rephrases. “You need someone to scare off Mr. Saltypants.”

Saltypants might not be completely accurate, but she’ll accept it.

“So I’m using you to scare off Luke, and you’re using me to scare off this-“ she gestures wildly, giving him a look.

“Rachel.” He supplies helpfully.

“Who is in your art class.” She adds, pursing her lips and furrowing her brows. She sighs and shakes her head. “You are literally devoid of intelligence. Just tell her no.”

Percy grimaces and shakes his head. “No look, I don’t want to make it awkward, and I’m already paired up with her on a project, but if I just happen to have a girlfriend, then she’s not going to be pushy about it and she’ll lay off. But if I tell her no, then it’s just going to be a big blob of drama, and I really need a good grade in this class because I’m taking organic chem this semester and I need an A to pull up that C for my scholarships.”

Annabeth glares at him.

Percy’s response is a wide smile and hopeful eyes.

It’s a terrible idea.

It’s a terrible horrible, stupid, bound-to-fail idea.

There are so many things that can go wrong. Mistiming, messing up, or worse.

She might actually end up liking him. And that would really throw a wrench in her master plans of graduating, getting a job in New York as an architect and building monuments and bridges and gods-only-know-what-else. But the point was if she got tied up with Percy Jackson, those dreams might take a serious detour.

“Fine.”

Fuck. Oh god why did she just say that?

“YES!” Percy leaps out of the booth, a two-handed fist pump as he lands on his feet. He repeats the action, and Annabeth is suddenly painfully aware of the fact she’s fake-dating a dork.

Her palm finds her face, and she smothers the irritation blooming in her chest, and instead rotates her hand back cup her chin as she considers him again. “Alright Seaweed Brain sit back down. We have terms to discuss.”

“Terms?” Percy cocks an eyebrow, then purses his lips. “Should have seen that one coming.” He mumbles it, but slides into the booth all the same, flexing his arms out and about in ways that pull his leather jacket tight across his arms.

Well. He did say he was a swimmer.

But swimmers usually have more defined back and abdominal muscles…

Annabeth blinked the rest of the thought away, choosing instead to focus on his face, detailing it and unearthing the flaws- much how she would a building plan.

His eyes were slightly out of alignment, left a hair higher than his right, but he tilted his head well, and with the crooked smile he always seemed to be wearing- it disguised it well.

Jaw was trim, a fair brushing of stubble, a half dozen blips of red irritation- either from razor burn or because acne would soon rear its ugly head. She felt like she’d enjoy seeing a big fat pimple on his smooth tan skin.

It might be righteous justice.

He huffs loudly, reclining as far back as he can in the booth. “Alright. Terms.”

And she did not get distracted.

She didn’t.

“Well.” She starts, stops. Stalls. Considers. Then- “well have you ever dated anyone?”

Percy snorts. “Between my grades, wanting to go to college, and swimming- I haven’t had the chance to do anything other than die in my bed.”

So that’s a no.

Which is odd.

She furrows her brow at him, directing her angry expression at him. “I highly doubt you of all people haven’t had a summer romance.” She says it accusingly.

She kinda means it to be.

He acts surprised. But she’s not sure how he could be. Swimming might not be the most attractive or spotlighted sport, but it requires a specific slim, well-muscled build. And Percy fits it.

So even if his personality is shit (which she knows it can’t be, because he’s just not an asshole), if he’s attended even one party- then it’s a guarantee that he’s gotten _something._

He shrugs and glances away, something misty in his eyes as he replies with a, “Some things are more important than getting a girl- even if all your friends are.” And he says the line sad and slow and careful.

Like the exhale of the ocean or the calming of the breeze after a storm. It’s like those words just burn all the energy out of him. And it shows.

His fingers- which once were drumming impatiently on the desk- have stilled. And his eyes- which danced back and form just as impatiently around the café- stilled to gaze at the wallpaper.

She doesn’t quite buy it.

Some people are good actors.

But she’ll let it slide for now.

“Alright well…… we have our class schedules, that’s a framework.” Even if it doesn’t include all her study plans and her blocked in time to go to labs and work on SolidWorks because her laptop just can’t handle manipulating 3D objects in the program.

“When do your classes start?” Percy asks, taking out his phone and tapping away at the screen.

It’s cracked. And the damage wraps all the way around to the back, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

She is the one fake-dating a boy that wears dark leather jackets after all.

There’s not much she can say.

“8:00 Monday, Wednesday, Friday. 7:30 Tuesday Thursday.” She replies.

“Can you do coffee at 7:30 Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“I can if you’re buying.”

He scoffs- looks offended.

She returns his look with a flat one. “You’re the one that asked to date me.”

And there’s a moment of tension, a moment of “did-you-really?” and then his smirk returns. “I suppose I deserve that.” He says. “Alright. Coffee. On campus or off? I know a place.”

“Off- so long as it’s close and fast.” She allows, if nothing else then because he’s paying.

His smirk blooms into a smile and –

_Oh fuck._

This is a terrible idea.

This is a wonderful idea.

Either way. This was not in her planned schedule for the semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo  
> This is a thing.  
> And I hope you like it.   
> Shoot. I hope I update this. Lol. Probably will. Hopefully.  
> We'll see. I started like four stories all at the same time because my brain is a pinball machine.   
> Also just sorry it's super short.  
> For whatever reason I just prefer this work to be a short series of snippets and scenes. We'll see how this goes.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've actually never written a POJ story before, despite combing through it off and on several times (because obviously I'm game for AnnabethXPercy, and maybe a bit of a sucker for some good Caleo), it's just never happened. So if there's something that's a little off or out of wack, feel free to mention it and let me know. I like doing research on whatever fandoms I write in, and for this, I actually read a story called 'I got a boy' on fanfiction as a basis for Percy's personality. Alternatively. I have no basis for Annabeth's other than the books and my knowledge that she's a boss-ass-bitch that gets shit done. 
> 
> And YES I realize that I made Luke a bad guy here. But I needed him as a plot device. (I actually really like Luke's character when examined throughout the story. He's a good villain.) So those of you that like him, forgive me. I needed someone that I could use as a two-time character that wouldn't be nameless.


End file.
